Alistaire at USC: Big Surprise

FWIW, the actual USTA National Championships are held in the Fall, not the Spring. Sue me. This is my timeline and I'll mangle it if I want to. This story needs to be in the spring of Alistaire's second year, so that's when the championships are held.

All sorts of callbacks in this one, including the main event. I just can't seem to get away from her...

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The One With A Big Surprise

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BECCA: Hey! My dad says that your mom has told another one of her clients to hire him as Chief Operating Officer. Monica is ecstatic. She likes Dad better when he is busy bitching about the millennials he loves to hire, and besides, having him around the house all the time cramps her style

ME: Excellent!

I was glad of this final confirmation that my antics with Becca had not screwed up things for Mr. Howard.

BECCA: It's too bad you aren't actually a Gamecock. We could get together this weekend and toast Dad's success

Oh wow. For the first time ever, I kind of regretted that for me, USC meant the University of Southern California, instead of the University of South Carolina.

ME: Curses. Foiled again

BECCA: Maybe for the best. Carol might knock me out and show up in my place if she heard you were going to be around again

ME: What?

BECCA: Your friend Carla has been putting ideas into her head about you.

This conversation was putting ideas in my head about Carol... As many as would fit, given all the ideas about Becca there were in there at the moment. It was completely distracting me from the USC-Oregon baseball game I was in the stands to watch with friends. Even though we had a really good team, I think you can understand my difficulty concentrating...

ME: My fam is hitting Telluride for Christmas this year, but I will be home with them after that until break is over. It would be a road trip, but we could meet up then?

BECCA: I like the way you think. And hopefully there should be time for you to meet up with Carol too, to get her off my back

Really?

I was not complaining.

Of course, I was already planning ways to meet up with both of them simultaneously, should I manage the feat. Christmas was going to rock!

And Becca sure was chill about the way I managed to make things work.

ME: You fit right into my life, don't you?

BECCA: That's what all your friends say

I stared at my phone as I walked across the grass of central campus.

Of course.

Carla had to be the culprit this time. There was no way my old friend would have failed to get Becca's contact info out of Carol.

ME: Swell. Are you enjoying being part of The Sisterhood?

BECCA: Actually yes. That is a bunch of cool women

I shook my head. She wasn't wrong, though. They were all cool. When they weren't ganging up on me.

An inning later, I got another text.

BECCA: We gotta make the Xmas thing happen. New Year's or after. Carol totally wants in

I started to put my phone on Do Not Disturb. I could not handle any more of this if I wanted a prayer of seeing any of this game.

The fact that the Trojan cheerleaders were in attendance and making the gaps between innings awesome helped focus my attention back locally.

The fact that my pre-med friend Fiona had been coerced into lifting her head out of her books and having some fun by coming to the game was also helping. I would have preferred, if she was going to spend a couple of hours not studying, that she and I spend them fucking, but you can't have everything.

And there was always after the game.

Dave sat on the other side of me from Fiona, and another guy named Rich sat on the other side of Fiona. Rich was okay, but I sensed that he and I were the main competitors for Fiona's very limited free time. Too bad for him. While I am not jealous, I am extremely competitive.

The third out of the inning came ignominiously. But the cheerleaders came out to work on our foul line this time around, right about in front of us.

"It is nice to have the hottest cheerleaders on Earth, ain't it?" I observed happily.

"They are hot," Dave agreed.

"But there are lots of hot cheerleaders out there," Rich said tendentiously.

Fiona ignored us and read her phone.

I wasn't sure what she had on there, but I had dark concerns that she was getting in a little studying...

"Nonsense, Rich," I said, saddling up a hobby horse of mine. "On the seventh day, when God rested, except for creating football and cheerleaders, he declared, 'Let there be hot, athletic girls in short skirts. Let them be called cheerleaders. And let there be a university in California called USC, where the best of the best shall go."

Darla MacWilliam, the hottest of the universally hot squad, chose that moment to execute a series of high kicks directly in our direction. Along with her squad-mates, I felt like she was dropping the mic for me.

Dave, Rich, and I shut up to enjoy.

"Maybe you are right," Rich sighed.

Fiona finally looked up from her phone. "The redhead? She's not even the hottest cheerleader on campus." She looked back down to her phone.

That looked a lot like Chemistry on that screen...

"Please," Dave snorted. "We might disagree over whether our girls are the best of every school, everywhere, but Darla is totally the hottest USC cheerleader."

Fiona didn't even look up. "Not a chance. The hottest cheerleader on campus isn't even cheering anymore. And when she was, she was cheering for UNC."

"What are you talking about?" I asked skeptically.

"Look, there is a first-year med student named Stephanie Wilkes here. She captained the Chapel Hill cheer squad. She's nice." Fiona shrugged. "And yeah, way hotter than Darla."

None of us guys knew what to do with this information... Except to continue enjoying watching Darla and her squad-mates, who were having a helluva lot better day than our ball club, especially my other roommate, who had seen six pitches, swung six times so far, and not made contact once.

*

The next day, a more immediately important text came through.

POPPY: Oh, by the way, Mom and her partner are through to the semi-finals of the USTA Nationals. They play again tomorrow, and Mom says her semifinal will probably be the championship match

ME: Srsly? I gotta send her my congratulations. Or should I wait until the final results?

I paused.

ME: Wait. Where is the tournament being held this year?

Something was tickling the back of my mind.

POPPY: Someplace out there called Pasadena

ME: Fuck! Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't SHE tell me? I'm going to go tomorrow for sure!

Tomorrow was Saturday. I'd be free.

POPPY: I did not think Pasadena was very close to you

ME: It's an easy drive. Well, easy for LA

I was coming to loathe LA traffic with a bit of a passion. But for a chance to see Sloane play competitively? I'd have gone during rush hour.

ME: Don't tell her I'm coming. I want to bust her chops for not telling me about this herself!

I sat there chortling at this text exchange, and Hannah looked up from her hamburger. "What's got you cackling like a hen, Big Guy?"

"An old... friend is playing in the USTA Over 40 doubles national championship semifinals tomorrow in Pasadena. I'm going to go and surprise her."

"Cool. Want company? I'd like to see this 'old... friend'," she giggled. Then she stopped herself. "Wait. Did you say 'over 40s'?"

"Yeah," I said blandly. "She's the mom of one of my favorite classmates back in high school."

"And by favorite, you mean..." Hanna teased.

I'd give her that much. "Yeah. Her daughter Poppy is very... dear to me."

"Oh, I am so fucking riding along."

Early the next morning, I was meeting with Kate to exchange some papers we had edited for each other. We were sitting in Everybody's Kitchen, a place on campus, just shooting the shit when Gina walked by with a tray. I waved and said, "Grab a seat."

Gina and I traded quick glances of 'that' variety, but otherwise she just plopped down. "Hey, Kate," she said. They knew each other in passing, or I would not have invited Gina to sit.

"What's on your agenda today, Alistaire?" Gina asked.

Usually, I would have immediately answered, 'You,' to an invitation like that, but I do still believe in discretion and, more to the point, I had plans.

"I am driving over to Pasadena with Hannah to see an old friend play in the semis of the USTA Nationals."

"Seriously? What college does she play for?" Kate asked.

"Heh. She never went to college. She was actually a WTA touring pro for a couple of years, way back when. She is in the 40s and up division of this tournament," I said.

"Oh," said Gina.

"I'm in," Kate said excitedly. "I love good tennis. Have I heard of this woman?"

"I doubt it," I shook my head. "She was the girls' tennis coach my senior year back in Connecticut."

"What time?" chimed in Gina. I told her when the match was, and that I was leaving in an hour with Hannah. She grimaced. "I can't quite get free by then. I'll drive my own car a little later, and maybe do some shopping out there afterward or something."

"Mind if I ride along with you, Alistaire?" Kate asked me.

And so I would be sitting and watching a tennis match with three women.

USTA matches, even at the top level like this, are not played in stadiums. Our destination was a country club, and the show courts would, at most, have some basic, portable, four or five row aluminum bleachers set up.

Traffic again bit me in the ass, and Kate and I ended up arriving less than five minutes before Gina and Hannah rolled up. Hannah had begged off my early departure and was now smug as fuck at spending an hour less time on the same drive by riding with Gina.

I'll bet Gina and Hannah had compared all sorts of notes, I thought darkly. Ordinarily, I'd have been hoping that their notes had been on some kind of 'collaboration' with me. It's the way I think. But Gina is even straighter than I am, if such a thing is humanly possible.

The four of us all went in together. Sloane was on one of the prime courts, and we squeezed together up on the top row of the bleachers.

Sloane and her partner Melissa finished winning the first set about five seconds after we sat down, 6-2.

"Gonna wave hi?" Gina asked me as the players took a break.

"Fuck no!" I snorted. "If she somehow loses, I don't want her to blame my presence! If the worst happens, I'm beating feet as fast as I can before she sees me!"

We all laughed.

A loss was a kind of a concern for the first four games of the second set, with Sloane getting her serve broken at love to put her and her partner down 1-3. I was nervous, but then Sloane hit three winners in a row, two at the net, to break right back. She and Melissa won 6-4 in the second to take the match and move on to the finals.

Most spectators applauded lightly and headed for the bar to wait for the next match.

I sat there atop the stands and cheered like a loon, woo-hooing and calling, "Sloane! Right on!"

It took two or three calls before she turned and saw who was making an ass of themselves.

"Alistaire!" she exclaimed, turning my way. I popped up and dashed down the risers to court-side. Sloane met me, a big grin on her face, her partner trailing along behind, curiously.

Then...

I saw Sloane spy the girls I had with me, make a quick and accurate assumption, and grin wickedly at me.

Uh oh.

We met, and she slid a hand right out, cradling the back of my head, and laid a kiss on me that curled my toes in their Converses. A long kiss. I was there for the kiss. I returned it with all sorts of interest. I thought about copping a feel, except her partner was there and I was still not sure what Sloane was trying to accomplish.

We still had not quite finished, but were winding down when Hannah chuckled, "Oh. That kind of old friend, huh?"

Sloane just gave Hannah a challenging look as we broke off the kiss.

"Um," said Sloane's partner.

"Melissa, this is Alistaire," Sloane blandly said to the older woman with her. "Alistaire, this is Melissa, my doubles partner. Please note Melissa is wearing a wedding ring, so don't get any ideas. Especially don't get any of your specialty ideas," she finished drily.

Too late.

Melissa was not as hot as Sloane, but that left plenty of room for hotness. Room she mostly filled. I had already found myself pondering several 'specialty' ideas of what I might do with the two of them together, long before the match had even been over.

Ah well.

"Nice to meet you," I said, giving her a polite younger man handshake. "If you guys play like that tomorrow, I'm going to bet you win the whole thing."

"Thank you," Melissa said, still off balance. "It's nice to meet you too, Alistaire. And who..." she froze and looked at Sloane. "Wait! This is Alistaire? The Alistaire? How old are you?" she asked me with incredulity.

"Um, twenty?" I said before thinking.

Melissa blinked a time or two. "Well, Sloane. That explains that kiss just now. And why you left out a detail or three before!"

Sloane just winked at her.

"And are you going to introduce me to the local chapter?" Poppy's mom asked, turning back to me.

"I'm Gina," my friend popped off. "Alistaire never mentioned anyone as epic as you in his history."

"Epic? I think I'm flattered," Sloane murmured, then looked onward. "His taste remains impeccable as always," she added, looking my friends over.

"This is Hannah," I said, who audibly smirked at her introduction. "And this is..."

"What the fuck is going on?"

"Kate," I finished lamely.

Oh... yeah.

Kate knew nothing about anything.

Well, she sort of knew a fuckton all of a sudden now, and I could tell it was not all processing smoothly.

"Wait," Kate said, blinking like mad. "Am I just going insane? Or am I going insane and Alistaire is also fucking everybody?"

"Not me," chirped Melissa who was a helluva lot more amused but less confused. "Although I think I should feel bummed to have been left out!"

"Kate, I... uh... see... G-Guys? Kate and I are just, well, friends," I gobbled helplessly.

"You mean you and Alistaire aren't...? Wow," Gina said to Kate in shock. "Um, why not?"

"Why not?" Kate yelped. "I... I mean..." she glared at me like I was some rabid beast shitting in her flower garden while giving her bad Yelp reviews. It was a weird glare.

She turned to Gina. "Can I ride back with you?"

Gina and Hannah looked at each other for a moment.

"Oh absolutely," Gina purred.

"This is going to be a blast," cooed Hannah.

Kate looked at them both like they were live snakes wearing propeller beanies. But it was clear that she'd still rather ride back across town with live snakes wearing propeller beanies than with me. She was freaked out. Then she shot me a grim look and said, "Yes. Yes, it is going to be fabulous."

I facepalmed.

Then the three of my local friends spent ten totally normal minutes congratulating Sloane and Melissa and discussing the match. All of them ignored me, though not pointedly. They just were totally comfortable having a conversation in front of me without including me.

Honestly, it was my normal existence, just on steroids.

Well, Melissa did not completely ignore me. She kept shooting utterly gleeful glances my way. Sloane was going to regret that stunt.

"Melissa and I need some photos after our penultimate victory," Sloane asked Gina. "Take a couple and text them to me, will you? My phone is over in my bag and I'm too tired from the match to schlep over there and grab it."

Gina shrugged and hauled out her phone. Sloane and Melissa hugged and mugged for the camera, and Gina ended up taking a bunch of shots before texting them all to Sloane.

"Ooh!" Sloane said just as that was happening. "We also need a picture with you guys, please. Since Melissa and I now apparently have a nationwide fan base, we need to rub that in Janice Gifford's face back at the club."

"Oh, God! Please," squealed Melissa like she was a sixteen year-old mean girl. "Who can we get to take it?" she asked, looking around.

"I'll do it!" almost yelped Kate. I realized she just did not want to be in a picture with me... and all of them. She grabbed Gina's phone, looked a little more relaxed after engineering her escape from being in the picture, and settled down to take her photographer's job seriously.

Predictably, I was placed in the center, between Melissa and Sloane. Gina and Hanna pressed in against them from either side. We all smiled, Melissa and Sloane both putting up two fingers, palms forward, in the old English 'Victory' sign.

Someone grabbed my ass just as Kate took the photo and she demanded to take another when she looked at it and saw my facial expression in the picture. The next one passed muster.

From her facial expression, I think Kate knew what had happened.

I did not. I know a bit about having my ass grabbed, but I was betting that the only one of them who could have grabbed that cheek from that angle was Melissa!

To be clear, I did not think the woman was actually copping a feel, per se. She was counting coup on Sloane.

Okay, she probably had been copping a feel, too.

I was summarily ignored again as they went back to talking for another minute or so.

"Well, we should go," said Gina, hauling out her keys. "See you later, Alistaire?"

"I hope so," I said feebly.

Gina and Hanna laughed merrily at that. Kate did not. She looked like she was escaping an alley filled with a very sketchy-looking crowd... in the company of another sketchy crowd.

And then they were gone.

I waved goodbye, trying and failing not to check out all three of their each in their own way splendid asses as they walked away.

Great, now I was checking out Kate's ass.

I turned back as swiftly as I could to Sloane and Melissa. Melissa was still trying not to cackle at my predicament.

Sloane was looking at me like... Sloane when she is horny.

"Alistaire," she said languidly. "It is so fortuitous that you are here, and now at loose ends. To be honest, I'd love it if you could help me out with some pre-match procedures before our final tomorrow."

"Huh?"

"Pondering some female athletic enhancement, Sloane?" Melissa asked. Apparently, she could still be caught at least a little off guard.

"Like you are not going to fuck Walt tonight," snorted Sloane.

"No shit," Melissa said firmly. "I keep telling you, it absolutely works."

"Oh," I said, getting it. "Um, I really, really don't want to derail this, but I'd always heard athletes should refrain the day or so before..."

"That's for male athletes, Alistaire," Sloane almost cackled. "Word is, the opposite is true for us ladies."

Huh. It's good to be a woman.

"You work fast," Melissa said to Sloane.

"I have to, if I want to work faster than he does!" Sloane retorted, jerking a thumb at me.

That was unfair. I had barely even begun to ponder the implications of being left here to my own devices. To Sloane's devices.

But I was pondering those implications now!

"Wait, where is Walt?" Sloane asked, suddenly realizing that Walt, Melissa's husband, was not in evidence.

"I saw him get a call and leave to take it during the second set," Melissa shrugged.

"He left during the match?" Sloane asked, borderline incredulous.

"I am pretty sure I know what it was about," Melissa said, her cheery disposition fading temporarily. "Someone at his office is getting fired, and I'll bet things just got ugly. He is probably off making some decisions he does not want to," she added sympathetically.

"That said," she went on, her demeanor immediately reverting to A-positive, "I should go find him and give him the hug he needs. I'll see you at breakfast tomorrow?" she asked Sloane, in a pro forma manner.

"Alistaire, it has been glorious to put a face to your name," Melissa went on, turning to me. "And such a lovely young face it is," she added, giving Sloane a look that foretold much discussion. She held her arms out to me and I found myself getting the neighbor lady hug and two quick air kisses on each cheek. But her hand rested on my ass and gave me another lingering grope.

Yeah, it had definitely been her who grabbed my ass before.

This time, Sloane saw the grope. She had obviously been meant to.

Counting coup, just like I said.

With that, Melissa waved to both of us and headed out to look for her husband and his problems. I watched her leave for a moment. Yep, I was checking out her ass too. I sensed her husband's mood would be improving shortly, when she got her post-match celebration/pre-match 'treatment'.

"You are going to give me a complex while you check out every ass in the zip code," Sloane said drily.

"In fairness, one of your opponents had a sweet ass as well," I smiled innocently.

My ass was slapped. The slap lingered into a grope.

"I desperately need a shower," Sloane said, scenically tugging at her sexy purple and chartreuse tennis outfit, sticky with sweat. "Want to give me a hand with that?"

Yes, please. Showers with Sloane were amazing.

We walked over to a golf cart on loan to Sloane from the club. "We have an AirBNB right over on the seventh hole here," Sloane said, swinging elegantly into the cart.

"Um, Melissa and her husband will be there?" I said hesitantly. My mind was confusedly warring with itself between absolutely not wanting to meet this Walt guy, and absolutely wishing that he didn't exist in the first place.

"Don't worry," Sloane almost giggled. "Melissa is showering and changing in the locker room here this evening, since she and Walt have tickets to the Magic Castle tonight. They won't be back to disturb my sleep with Melissa's pre-match preparations until much later." We bounced over a speed bump.

They had speed bumps on the cart paths around here?

Sloane sighed. "I wish we could still be going at it when they do finally get back, just to turn Melissa green. But..."

"You better be ready for her to give you all sorts of shit over this," I said dubiously.

"Oh, she thinks she is going to," Sloane practically cackled. "She is not prepared for what I'm going to tell her."

I rolled my eyes.

And wished I could watch and listen.

"But I really did play very hard today, Alistaire. I doubt I have more than an hour or so in me of your level of sex," she said almost apologetically as we turned onto a short street with small but nice houses.

"Well, I guess if that's all the sex you have in you, I just need to make sure you have me in you as much as possible then," I leered.

"You have no idea how excited I am to see you, Alistaire," Sloane sighed. She grabbed my hand and held it as we pulled into the driveway, parking on the right side.

Neither of us wasted any time sprinting into the house. When we reached the bathroom, Sloane turned to me. "I need you to go get us a couple of glasses of Chardonnay from the kitchen, Alistaire."

I almost never drank wine, but Sloane was going to get whatever she wanted from me. "Sure, just as soon as I get you out of that sexy tennis outfit," I smiled, reaching for her. But she danced out of my reach.

"No, now. You don't need to see me peeling myself out of this sodden outfit."

"You look sexy as hell, Sloane," I said eagerly. "And I love peeling a girl out of her clothes.

"Thank you," she said, stroking my cheek. "I do think I look good in this. And I hope I will look even better, once I'm in the shower, all naked and soapy. But I need you to go get the wine because nobody would find me sexy peeling this already fairly ripe stuff away from my skin."

I wanted to argue further. I had good arguments to the contrary. But what Sloane wanted, Sloane was going to get until she was fully exhausted. And probably a little more after that...

I dashed to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of Chardonnay from the fridge. My father had long ago taught me how to pull a cork, and I did so swiftly. I poured two full glasses, intending to leave some of mine as a reserve for Sloane. I had given in and left for the kitchen this time, but I was damned if I was going to leave that fabulous woman for a second time, once we got started.

When I returned to the bathroom, Sloane gave me a languid gaze from inside the glass door. Soapsuds ran intermittently down her insane figure.

I got undressed swiftly, under her appreciative gaze, and slid into the shower with her.

Given this was the state that invented the slogan, Save Water, Shower With a Friend, the California architect of this house had dedicated an annoyingly small amount of space for the shower.

On the plus side, this led to a liberal application of naked Sloane from my head to toe, as I soaped her body happily in the close quarters. I didn't need a cleaning, but I was apparently going to get one anyway...

On the negative side, there was hardly any room to bend over and engage in all sorts of activities we each wanted to engage in. We finally gave up, groped each other silly, and cut off the shower as soon as we could--ish.

When we got out, I enjoyed drying her off. I knelt and ran the big fluffy towel between her delicate toes, up her legs (and between them), and everywhere else. When I went to dry her hair, she laughed and pulled away. She wrapped the towel around her head expertly and asked, "Ever screwed a woman in a towel turban?"

"I have not," I observed.

"Good, because I don't want a wet pillow when I finally collapse for a good, well-fucked, night's sleep," she laughed.

Then Sloane decided to dry me in turn. Her commitment to keeping her sheets dry seemed less intense than she claimed, as she did a half-assed drying operation on me, what with my cock in her mouth the whole time. I finally took the towel from her hands to dry my own hair and shoulders. The fact that this left her able to keep her most expert lips on my cock, and said cock deep in her throat was in no way selfish on my part.

I had not been fully deep-throated in over a year, and wow, was I ready for the phenomenon to reappear! The towel dropped from my nerveless fingers and Sloane just outright fucked me with her throat. My cock nearly exploded with pleasure as she worked.

With a gasp, I choked out, "Coming!"

She merely pulled my cock from her throat, leaving it fully in her mouth, and kept bobbing her head, her hand stroking my shaft eagerly. I found myself going up on tiptoes as my balls gathered themselves. "Oh, fuck yeah," I crooned as I emptied myself, filling Sloane's mouth. She sucked happily, swallowing easily as I pumped.

When I sagged, Sloane let me slip from her lips and drew a last drop from me with her fingers.

"There," she sighed happily. "We have you ready to wring every last drop of energy out of me so I can recharge completely fresh for tomorrow!" She turned and led me swiftly toward the bedroom.

Damn, a woman is sexy when naked, but for a towel on her head!

Something to keep in mind.

I caught her from behind as we reached the bed and I gently pushed her forward onto the mattress, her knees climbing up to the edge of the bed. She leaned forward under my gentle pressure, ending up on her hands and knees, facing away from me.

So fucking edible...

I bent and ran my hands up the back of her thighs until they were squeezing her cheeks. I let my face dip without preamble so I could kiss her fresh, clean-shaven pussy. I licked and kissed gently and slowly, teasing her hard, simply by refusing to accelerate things or let my hunger loose.

"How the fuck are you so good at this at your age?" Sloane groaned.

"Practice, practice, practice," I snorted from between her thighs.

"I doubt they will let you do this at Carnegie Hall," she moaned.

Maybe, maybe not... In the meantime, I was going to practice Sloane into a sloppy, happy mess, prepared just right for fucking, and I was going to enjoy the hell out of doing so.

My tongue pressed into her moist, aromatic nest, and I moaned happily, even before she did. But she blew my moans away in the volume department, and wriggled her hips and ass against my face. I held on tighter with one hand on her ass, trying to keep her in place so my tongue could work, while my other hand undermined those efforts by sliding under her and tickling her clit below where my tongue twisted in her entrance.

Sloane's arms collapsed and her face smashed down into the comforter, muffling her groans.

She was close.

I pushed her closer.

When I felt she was on the very edge, I straightened up and pressed my cock into her pulsing slit. Her arms remained splayed out, but her head arched up and Sloane moaned loudly, "Fuck yes! So gooood!"

The last word soared upward in register as she came on my invading member. I had barely had time to thrust more than two or three times before she started to orgasm, just like I had hoped to achieve. I indulged my own ecstasy by pushing into her a few more times as she finished, after which she collapsed even further. Then I gave a couple more thrusts after that, because I was having a hard time stopping.

But I had a plan, and I forced myself to get on with it. I knew damned well that Sloane was assertive in the sack. I had kept her off balance for a few minutes now, but she'd reassert herself soon. I needed to get on with the things I wanted to do, before she organized her own agenda.

Don't get me wrong, her agenda was going to be awesome. But I was acutely aware that this could easily, probably, be my last time ever to be with this woman. If it wasn't, then any time we were together in the future would likely be our last. This indefinite certainty had added a special spice to things between us from our very first time.

This unfortunate calculus was actually buried in the back of my mind with virtually every woman from before college, and would likely start burrowing into my time with my current partners soon. But things were especially close to the surface with Sloane, given that we had 'known' that our very first time, way back when, was going to be our last.

I tenderly rolled her over onto her back, her boneless posture leaving her with her legs hanging limply off the edge of the bed, spread wonderfully. I leaned over her and kissed her gently but deeply. She languidly returned the kiss. I kissed my way swiftly down to her lovely, ageless breasts and suckled on each nipple eagerly.

But I did not tarry. Sloane's sighs were already gaining in strength. I knelt down and once more pushed my tongue into her depths, petaled open a bit more than before by my brief, intense intrusion.

"Holy cow, Alistaire," Sloane moaned. "Again? Are you going to get me off this way this time? I'm going to need a minute to summon the energy..."

I popped my head up. "No, I am not," I said, swiftly returning to my feet. "I can't help myself. I need to start fucking you again. Seriously this time," I added, as I steered myself back into her. This time, we both sighed as I sank into her depths.

As I started to thrust, Sloane waved a hand in the air languidly. "If you insist. Carry on!"

I deliberately went slow for as long as I could, and I surprised myself at how long that was. But once she began to twist and moan more and more, I found myself losing all restraint.

"There we go," Sloane growled as I started pumping into her. "There we go! Give it to me."

Her legs came alive and pulled upward, bending at the knees. I slid my arms under her calves and lifted higher, bending her practically in half. She was more flexible than a lot of girls I knew who were half her age. Sloane's hips ground around my thrusting cock and I clasped her raised legs against my chest, wrapping my arms around them to give me leverage to pound into her.

I could have come almost instantly, but I desperately held off. I wasn't, for once, doing so to let my partner catch up, Sloane was well and truly there and seemed to be holding off just as I was. We simply wanted this to last. Each stroke in and out of her sent lances of pleasure through my gut and thighs, and her moans were erotic music to my ears.

I was close, desperately close, but I held off. The fabulous agony of hanging on the edge was almost worth it.

Sloane slipped first, and I felt her legs spasm in my arms, then her pussy did likewise around my hammering cock. I had no chance after that.

I cried out wordlessly as I lost my load deep inside her, still stroking in and out, but in ragged, erratic, partial thrusts as I emptied myself in several stumbling bursts.

I leaned over her, my movements slowing to a standstill, and rested there, clinging to her legs to ensure my own continued verticality. But Sloane suddenly twisted her legs and pushed them free of my clutches.

"Fucking hell, Alistaire," she gasped. "That was crazy!" Her legs fell to my sides, and she swiftly grabbed my ass to hold me in her depths. I was certainly softening this time, but not completely. With impressive ab strength, she sat upright, allowing us to share a long, simultaneously satiated and hungry kiss.

I fondled her breasts idly. What the hell, they were right within reach, and I had nothing else to do with my hands...

"I need a bag of my trail mix," Sloane said at last, having inhaled her share of my essence through our lips. "And then I have a very specific idea of what to do next."

Yep. She was asserting control at last.

I was here for that.

But there was much snacking first. Sloane had started making her own trail mix for recharges between competitive sets of tennis, and it turned out to be delicious and restorative between sets of sex as well. I got the recipe before I left.

I then got laid once more, as in I was laid out on the bedroom carpet and ridden like this antique mechanized horse I had loved as a little kid. The little ride had been located outside the Ben Franklin store, way out in the country near our home. It took dimes.

I did not require dimes. Just more trail mix.

"I wish I could come back tomorrow, but I have obligations," I said, embracing Sloane and failing to stop my hands from roaming just a little more as we kissed goodbye.

"I'm sure you do," she purred.

We held each other close, feeling each other's warmth and heartbeats. Sloane's grip on me tightened. "Fuck it," she said. "What are your plans this evening, Alistaire? Any good frat parties you are attending?"

"I've got nothing on tap," I said, reassuring her that she had not made me late for anything. There were several parties that I was aware of, and I would probably hit one with Dave, or maybe Ronnie. I was not ready for the fallout that I would catch if I tried to hang out with Gina or Hannah after this day. But no one was actually expecting me for anything.

"Good," Sloane said firmly. "Then don't go. I don't want to be done with you."

"You just said you were fucked out," I said, confused but suddenly optimistic.

"I am," she admitted, caressing my ass. "But look, I just need a rest, not a whole night's sleep yet." She slid from my arms and grabbed her phone. I saw her open the timer app. "I'm setting an alarm for ninety minutes," she said.

She stepped toward the bed, and pulled back the covers. Sliding into it naked, she beckoned to me. I am powerless to resist such a beckon, and in no way inclined to try, ever. I moved to join her.

Sloane snuggled against me. "I'll just take a nap and recharge. Will you hold me while I do?"

"I'll do anything you want, Sloane," I said simply.

"You are the sweetest thing in the world," was all she said. With that, she rolled over onto her side, facing away from me and snuggled in. I slid behind her and wrapped an arm around her, pulling myself against her back.

"Oh yeah," Sloane murmured, already sounding sleepy. "With the feel of you like this, I am going to wake up so horny..."

That sounded wonderful to me! I closed my eyes as well, and found that while an actual nap eluded me, I experienced the kind of waking dreams that come from motionlessly cuddling a naked babe, with your cock pressed against her killer ass.

I snapped out of the haze on my own, realizing that spooning for so long comes with a price, in the form of an arm feeling ready for amputation due to restricted blood flow. I reflected on the still-sleeping, Sloane-shaped armful in my embrace and decided the pins and needles that were coming for me would be worth it.

Meanwhile, all the blood that was not in my arm had found another home. My cock was a steel rod pressing against Sloane's warm, hard ass.

My free arm could just reach Sloane's phone, and I saw that there were only ten minutes left on her timer. I tapped Cancel.

I was counting on Sloane waking horny as she had promised, because I sure had.

She also had been as tired as she had advertised, because she did not wake as I desperately worked my dead arm free from underneath her. She simply rolled onto her back and kept sleeping.

Perfect.

I slid down under the covers slowly and maneuvered myself between her legs. She unconsciously let them part as I nestled between her knees. I wondered how much it would take to rouse her. I was absolutely certain that what I was about to do was going to wake her, but just how quickly was going to be an interesting question.

Recently showered, and even more recently recently fucked, pussy smelled wonderful to me. And it tasted even better. I left my tongue on her surface at first, and while Sloane stirred and murmured quietly, she did not wake. I enjoyed my free rein for a few moments, before I could not resist, and pressed my tongue home into her, seeking more of her delicious flavor.

Sloane stirred further as I plumbed her depths, feeling her tightness yielding to my invading tongue. I focused sharply on her movements, and as I sensed she was truly about to wake, and leapt my tongue up to start swirling around her clit. Her eyes shot open and she gasped as she woke to intensity between her legs.

I could see her eyes as I drove her, and she awoke confused but ecstatic. Her hands grabbed my head, and pulled my face harder against her groin. I just tongued even harder. "What?" Sloane voiced, her legs pulling up around me. "Fuck, yes. Yes! Holy shit, Alistaaaaaiiiiiire!"

I felt her convulse satisfyingly, her conscious mind only registering her orgasm once it had already struck. Her body roiled in wave after wave of release, all out of proportion to the minimal effort I had needed to produce this utterly gratifying result.

"Fucking fuck..." Sloane gasped, her spasming legs suddenly limp beside my shoulders.

I popped my head up from her pussy and grinned. "Wake up, sleepy head!"

"Alistaire," she gasped. "That... you... you couldn't wait for my alarm to wake me?"

"Eh," I shrugged. "Alarms are annoying. I caught yours and cancelled it right before it was going to go off."

"So you had to do the job yourself? You should be careful. You could have killed a fragile old woman like me!"

"Tomorrow, after you win a second charm for that bracelet you are wearing right now," I snorted, "you can tell me how old and decrepit you are."

She smiled feyly. "Please tell me your cock is hard," she panted.

That sounded promising...

"I have been resting with it nestled against your bare, amazing bottom for almost two hours," I said. "Of course it is stiff as a board. Just don't ask me to do anything with my right arm for a few minutes," I added ruefully. The pins and needles in that limb felt more like rapidly stabbing stilettos.

Okay, to be honest, the sensations of blood flow returning to my limb were fading by now. The tingle now felt only like I was being attacked there with a thousand kindergarten staplers.

"Oh wow! You left your arm underneath me and it fell asleep?" Sloane asked in amused horror. "Let this be a lesson to you, young man," she added in a wavering old voice.

I just grimaced at her and shook my still numb hand.

Sloane grinned evilly. "I guess you better come up her and fuck this old lady good until the pain goes away."

That I could do!

I crawled swiftly up to kiss her, my cock bending down slightly against her crotch as I did so. Sloane shifted beneath me and I felt my cock slot into her very wet opening. I stared into her eyes as I pushed my way into her, slower than I needed to, given the sodden nature of her arousal.

Fuck yeah, that made the fading tingle in my arm seem utterly unimportant.

Sloane's legs came up again, crossing now behind my lower back. Her hands grabbed my head and held me in place for an incredibly long kiss. I loved kissing Sloane, but the way she held my head was making it had for me to get up much steam in the fucking her wildly department. I shook my head free of her grasp and began to utterly plow into her.

"Good idea," Sloane gasped and I hammered into her hungrily. "Fuck now, kiss later..."

Lying atop her, I drove into Sloane's depths, my cock singing happily as I stroked rapidly. The ride was fabulous. I knew that most women did not make it all the way to orgasm in missionary, and I knew that Sloane specifically would probably not, though she clearly enjoyed every moment. That was okay. I did not want either of us to come anytime soon.

I had been granted an extra set with this woman, and as far as I was concerned in that moment, I wanted it to play out like that Isner-Mahut match at Wimbledon that ended up at 70-68 in the final set after being called for darkness TWICE. It was the first truly historic sporting moment I had witnessed live (on TV) in my life.

If I could have kept fucking Sloane for eight straight hours, I'd have been down for it.

But much as we loved my dominant pounding, I sensed Sloane deciding to take a turn, and in a few more thrusts, she rolled me off of her.

She pulled off my cock just long enough to assume her favorite position in the world, with both feet planted flat on the mattress astride my hips. In moments more, she had me trapped inside her again and was riding me up and down with her amazing leg strength and fitness.

Words left us, and the only, albeit loud, sounds in the room were our breathing, and the wet sounds of her ride.

This was the exact position we had been in, that first time, when Poppy had walked in and found us. My amused memory of the then terrifying moment let me refocus and tamp down any impulse toward orgasm. Sloane had no such thought to divert her.

She reveled in the ongoing adventure, but I could tell when she got greedy. She shifted forward just a touch, but I felt my cock now caressing every submission button she had with every reentry.

My hands were occupied with holding her sweaty, marvelous breasts, but my eyes could see her chin trembling. Her eyes squeezed shut, then popped open wide.

"Oh, god!" was all she said, followed by an explosive yelp of ecstasy, rolling and trailing off slowly as she rode me through the advent of her powerful orgasm.

I grabbed her hips and pumped up into her, hard and fast, recycling her release for another wave.

She held there above me as I slammed upward. Her hands, planted firmly on my chest, balled into fists and she actually hit me a bit with them as she balanced on her brink until the last burst of energy flowed away.

The moment she wobbled above me, I practically threw her to the side. I sprang up (then nearly keeled over) and sprang to the side of her bed. Standing on the floor, I grabbed Sloane's legs and pulled her, giggling groggily, to the edge. Now I could stand straight up again while plunging back into her.

I leaned forward over her, my hips already moving, and grinned at her flushed, beautiful face. "Ready to get serious here?" I growled.

"I'm going to be superhuman on court tomorrow," Sloane grinned right back.

I made myself go slow for a while. I was still loathe to finish. But really good sex gathers a momentum of its own, and there is only so much we can do about it, for so long. In minutes, I was accelerating my pace while Sloane enjoyed a series of small, but lingering aftershocks on my delving cock.

"Not going to hang on much longer," I half warned, half grumbled.

Sloane put a hand on my chest. "Don't come in me!" she exclaimed.

Huh?

"Huh?" I said, confused. "What is...?"

"I just want to see your cum this la... time," Sloane panted, clearly avoiding the Last word, "I want to feel you splash on my skin."

Oh, fuck yeah.

I just let myself go, which my body was apparently going to do anyway, and I pistoned in and out of her over and over, grunting with the fierce effort. Sloane just lay there, her orgasmic energy largely spent, but reveling in the sensation of my attention.

"Almost there," I whined.

At that, Sloane summoned the energy for an instant reaction. She sat up, again activating those amazing abs. With a quick shove, she had me stumbling backward a step. She slid off the bed to kneel on the spot I had just left. She grinned there, leaning against the bed, and said, "Paint me!"

I took my cock in my hand and realized that before me was a golden opportunity. I leaned forward rubbed my cock over her tits, letting the tip wiggle her hard nipples back and forth.

"Oh, you bad boy!" Sloane smiled eagerly.

"Squeeze 'em," I growled, letting my cock slap against her sternum.

Sloane just grabbed her marvelous breasts, and pushed them together to trap my pussy-soaked dick. The change in activity had bought me a few wonderful moments of distance between me and my impending orgasm. But not many of them.

I thrust in between her mounds for far too short a time before I felt a surge that I could not deny. Everything between my legs surged and a hot blast shot up from between Sloane's boobs. Her eyes flashed in delight and she released her breasts and grabbed my cock in hand. She pumped furiously, and I just kept pumping. White splashes struck her upper breast, then her mouth. A wildly oscillating stream drifted off to strike her right shoulder, then the final major spurt danced upward through the air and slapped against her left temple.

"Oh shit," I gasped, as if just punched in the stomach.

Sloane did not immediately stop stroking me, which felt amazing, until I was suddenly in agony of over stimulation and grabbed her hand to bring its relentless milking to an end.

"That was the stuff," Sloane sighed, looking down at her cummy chest. "You always give me what I want, Alistaire." She smiled up at me.

"You look amazing," was all I could say in response.

"I feel amazing, actually," Sloane said. "This memory will tide me over for a while. It will be particularly useful tomorrow."

"Huh?"

"Melissa and I should win tomorrow," Sloane said. "Should. But I can get nervous at the end of big matches. It was what kept me as a third tier, instead of a second tier player when I was young. Tomorrow, at some point, when she and I take control of the match, I will start imagining what will happen if I choke."

"Come on," I said dismissively.

"No, it will happen. It did today, at the start of the second set. I usually can overcome it, but it is a concern. But tomorrow, when it starts, I'll just walk to the side of the court, close my eyes, and remember the sensation of your cum splattering all over me, over my face, my breasts... It will clear my head," she smirked, "of all shreds of negative thought!"

"But," she went on. "I do need some real sleep. And you need to get back to campus while there is still some Saturday night left to chase co-eds!"

"I think I'm done for the evening," I snorted.

Probably.

Maybe.

Depends on if either Hannah or Gina got seriously horned up by the whole Sloane thing. In that case, the fallout might actually be fun...

"Well, get dressed either way," Sloane said, standing and grabbing a bathrobe. She shrugged it on without cleaning herself up. It was just a thin, pink, satin. Under ordinary wearing circumstances, it would have looked awesome on her figure, but my various ejaculate made it stick to her curves in weird and wonderful ways, dark patches showing through unmistakably where my jizz soaked through.

She did wipe her face, mostly, while I dressed.

"Maybe I can come see you again next year when you try to repeat," I suggested... suggestively. "I can provide you with all the pre-match treatment you want."

"Sounds lovely," Sloane chuckled in that throaty way of hers. "But next year's finals are in Mobile, Alabama."

"Why?" I asked incredulously. We both laughed.

"Go on. Get out of here," Sloane said, shoving me toward the door of her bedroom. "I have to grab a snack and go back to bed with your smell and stuff still on me. I think I will also do some texting, including giving my daughter my eternal thanks for telling you I was out here."

"Why didn't you text me yourself that you were in California?" I asked.

She looked down for just an instant. "Oh, I knew you were out here with all sorts of new friends. I did not know if you would want to come see me."

Insecurity? From Sloane? Fuck that noise.

I pulled her into yet another embrace, and despite her face being not at all fully clean, I laid as passionate a kiss on her as I could. "You always make me want to come, Sloane," I growled with as hard a Look as I could deliver.

I wanted to peel that robe off her and fuck her again, just to illustrate my point, but I figured that I had done as much as I was going to get away with. And Melissa and Walt would be home eventually.

"And you always know what to say, Alistaire," she said with a brilliant smile, breaking away from my embrace and poking me in the ribs. "Now go back to school and apologize for our behavior to Kate."

"If I ever see her again," I muttered.

"Sorry about that, really," Sloane said sincerely. "I didn't think it was possible that you somehow hadn't closed the deal with every one of that group of hot girls. I screwed up another of your campaigns, didn't I? How long have you been after Kate?"

"I'm not after her!" I protested. "We've known each other for over a year. We are just friends."

"That girl is not up to your standards?" Sloane asked incredulously.

"That girl certainly would be," I snapped. I guess I was a little irritated at the whole situation. "But the issue just never came up. I was with Liz when we met, and Kate just never showed any interest. It has been a nice, stable friendship. I am capable of those," I added loftily.

" Then I hope you two can keep that," Sloane said sincerely.

"I hope so too. Honestly, I think we will be okay, she just may never look me in the eye again."

"Oh, she will look at you," Sloane laughed, looking at me.

We walked through the living room of the house, but before I could open the front door, it opened all on its own.

"You decent in here, Sloane?" called Melissa unseriously, leading her husband in without waiting for an answer.

"Uh," Walt said, freezing. Melissa had a look on her face that was priceless, warring between mortified horror and absolute glee. "What is...?" Walt trailed off, confused. He mostly was looking at me, but I think this was because he was trying to avoid utterly staring at the barely dressed and obviously cummy Sloane. She seriously had not even started removing the big blob of my semen in the hair by her left temple.

Sloane reacted in puzzlement at Walt's utter bafflement. That was probably a good thing because otherwise I imagine she would have been freaking out about her appearance in front of her friend's husband. She stabbed Melissa with a gaze. "You are back earlier than I expected. And what did you talk about this evening?"

Melissa snorted, having no problem staring at her friend's appearance. "The match, Walt's office, and the show. I was saving the juicy stuff for when we got back here... and into bed."

Walt kind of choked at Melissa's obvious innuendo in front of this random man-child in their living room.

Brazen. Brazen it out.

I extended my hand to Walt and took a step toward him. "You must be Walt," I said, channeling my father with every fiber of my being. "My name is Alistaire. I know Sloane from back in Connecticut, and came out to see her and your wife's match today. I guess we just missed each other in the stands."

"Uh, hello. Nice to meet you," Walt replied, shooting a look at Sloane instead of meeting my eye for our handshake. Bad form, Walt, but I could certainly understand. Sloane had finally remembered her appearance and was trying to straighten her robe. All that did, however, was spread the sticky, cum-discolored patches wider.

"I have not had so much fun in one day in twenty years," cackled Melissa.

Sloane clearly wanted to bolt for her bedroom, but as long as I was still in the house, she couldn't.

"Well," I said brightly, "I was just on my way out. I'm sure there will be some massive, inexplicable late-night traffic jam between here and campus, so I need to be moving. It was nice to meet you both," I said to Walt and the gleeful Melissa.

Walt recovered enough to shake my hand again, of his own volition this time. I got a good eyeing over as he did so this time. Melissa gave me a quick hug and her thanks for being a spectator. I tensed for another ass grab, but she refrained. I could see in her eyes that she knew I had been ready for it, and it had amused her to have not delivered it.

I tried not to look as if I was bolting through the door.

It had been a fabulous day and a better evening, I thought as I walked in the cool night air. A shortcut across the fairway took me almost straight to the lot where I had left my car. If Kate ever spoke to me again, I was perfect.

Even the drive back in utterly miserable, utterly inexcusable, and utterly predictable traffic at nine o'clock on a Saturday night could not sour my mood. The charge on my VISA card for a tank of gas along the way came close, though.

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Thanks again, everybody! Please remember to vote, favorite, comment, yada yada yada. Seriously, it means a lot to me and keeps me intent on continuing.

I know that I have kept up a near-perfect weekly release schedule with this series, but don't count on the next entry being on time. I keep re-writing it.